Two In The Morning
by lochridge
Summary: What happens when Tony is called to Ziva's by a distraught Abby? Rated M for later chapters. S7 spoilers somewhat. Allusions to Paris.....
1. Chapter 1

The call came at 2 am.

Loud, obnoxious, familiar as it was, it took Tony a few seconds to react to the cell's insistent buzz. Deep sleep was such a luxury that even after seven plus years as an agent, he still deeply resented that sound. "One day, I'm gonna throw that thing across the room just for the joy of watching it smash…." Tony ran his hand through his hair as he grabbed his phone off the nightstand, still more than half asleep and answering automatically, which accounted for his immediate shock.

"Yeah Boss?"

" Ohmygod Tony! I'm so sorry to wake you up, but you've got to get over here NOW!" Abby 's voice, frantic at 2 in the morning, calling him on his cell. What?!? Abby?

"What? Abs slow down! What's wrong? Where do I have to go? Where's Gibbs?" God, how Tony hated mornings. Seeing Abby's number on caller id began to clear the cobwebs. So this wasn't a case. He readjusted to catch the end of Abby's only slightly moderated explanation.

"…… and she won't respond. I swear Tony, she's half catatonic. I don't know what to do. I don't know what happened. Hell, I don't even know if she's been drugged, although I think that's highly unlikely given that we never left our drinks and watched the bartender make them. God! It's so bad Tony. You've got to come. You're closest and I don't know what to do!"

"Abby, SLOW DOWN! I am only half awake and you're talking too fast. Who is half catatonic and where exactly do I need to go? Is anyone dead?"

"Ziva." Ziva what? You're so stupid I'm going to call Ziva? Ziva's dead? Tony's stomach took a downward turn as he struggled to make sense out of Abby's warp speed diatribe, dress, and grab his keys.

"Ziva what, Abby? Is she there? Pass her the phone. You're not making any sense."

"Haven't you heard anything I've said? I can't pass her the phone. Well, I guess I could, but she wouldn't talk and I don't even think that right now she recognizes me. She's the one in trouble. No one is dead. Tony, you've got to hurry."

"I AM hurrying, Abby, but I need to know where you are to get there. Are you in an Emergency room, an alley, some Goth tattoo parlor? You've got to help me out here."

"Geez, you really are slow in the morning! Is this how you deal with Gibbs' early morning calls? I'm at Ziva's ." Abby slowed down to "I used to only have to go this slowly for Psycho Chip" speed. "We went out after work to Happy Hour at the Grill, then watch a movie. You know, Girls' Night Out. We haven't had nearly enough of that since she got back. Anyway, the plan was for me to stay here over night so that driving or metro riding under the influence wouldn't be an issue. So we get back here, talk a while, then decide to call it a night. It was actually pretty early. I know Ziva was tired, but it was all good. Elevenish we turn in, hello sleep and all that. Then about an hour ago, well an hour and a half now, 'cause you're dragging your feet…."

"I'm not dragging my feet! I'm in the car and on my way. It's called multitasking."

"Anyway, about an hour and a half ago, I wake up to these blood curdling screams. I mean really scary stuff, Tony. Like the kind I'll have my own nightmares about."

Cursing under his breath as a car cut him off, Tony tried not to go medieval on the jerk, his car or his cell. He couldn't help Ziva or Abby if he got himself arrested. It was looking as if he might have to bail Zee out of jail….

"Abs, who did she cut up, and why were they in her house? Why is she half catatonic?"

"That's just the point, Tony. No one tried to break in. She must have had a nightmare. Strike that. A Technicolor, 3D horror movie dream or whatever constitutes that for Ziva. When she wouldn't stop screaming, I opened her bedroom door, fully expecting to get shot, and God Tony," Abby burst into tears, "Ziva was curled into a ball on the far side of her bed, frantic and totally gone somewhere into her head. Where are you? I thought Ziva told me you were only 10 minutes away…."

"I'm at the door, honey. Let me in." This can't be good, thought Tony as he heard Abby pound to the front door and release several locks. I think it's going to be a long day.

Ziva's door opened to a deeply distressed, weeping Abby, cell phone still in her hand. One look at her Very Special Agent friend resulted in a bone-crushing hug for Tony and ugly mascara lines on the front of his sweatshirt. Abby immediately grabbed his hand and began dragging him towards the back of the house.

"She's stopped yelling, but she is totally unresponsive, except to try to make herself part of the wall when I approach her. She won't take her eyes off me, but it's like she's seeing someone else." Hand on Ziva's bedroom door knob, Abby was fully prepared to throw Tony to Fate, but he managed to stop her. Gut churning, and a gnawing suspicion of the problem lurking in the back of his mind, he managed to get a just a little more information before going in.

"Ok. You said she isn't talking. Did she say anything when she was screaming? Anything coherent and in English, that is?"

"Not that I understood. Maybe something in Hebrew or Arabic? Tony, I don't even think she knows where she is." Wheels finally turning, Abby's eyes widened. "Could this have something to do with last summer? Some kind of PTSD thing? I would have thought she'd have worked that stuff out by now, considering her training and the number of psych evals that Vance has put her through. After all, it's been over 6 months."

"I gather that sometimes this stuff can take you by surprise and at any time. It might have been better for you to have called Ducky."

"I thought about that, but Ducky is over 40 minutes out, and I guess I figured since you're her partner and you were actually with her in Somalia, not to mention a lot closer to here, you'd be a better choice. Besides, at some point she's going to be mortified about this and I wanted her to be…"

"Protected." The word left Tony's mouth of its own accord. They exchanged a knowing look and Tony took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Alrighty then. Well, let's see if she's out of flight and into fight. Be ready to dial 911. It might get ugly if she's remembered that she has guns in the house."

"That's not funny, Tony. Not at all."

"I know Abs. Believe me, I know." Tony placed his hand on the door knob and gently opened the door, moving softly but not stealthily. Fractured traumatized Ziva was one thing. Fractured, traumatized, violent Ziva could be deadly. He need not have worried. The bundle on the far side of the bed was a danger to no one but herself. Even the demons she was trying to banish were safe for the moment. Part of a secret place in Tony's heart shattered. Ziva hadn't looked that terrified and helpless when she was actually bound and in the interrogation "room" in Somalia. Abby was right. This was really bad. Very slowly he approached the bed, taking care that Ziva could see him and every move he made. Five steps felt like fifty. He finally reached the bed and slowly sat down on the opposite edge from his partner. He could be in her line of vision, but not invade her personal bubble. Funny that I should think of Ziva having a personal bubble, Tony thought. She never thinks about anyone else's…What kind of jerk am I? She's tearing herself apart here and I'm being snide in my head. Must be like laughing at a funeral…..Bringing himself back to the situation at hand, he turned his full attention to his partner.

"Ziva?" An unseeing glance in his direction.

"Ziva, it's Tony. Do you know where you are?" Tony put all the tenderness and concern he could muster into his voice. Nothing.

"I hear you and Abby had a Girls' Night Out. How many men did you two drive into a frenzy before you left the Grill?" Same tone, but accompanied by a smile. No response. Not even a glance. Ziva started rocking, silently weeping. Tony began to panic. If he couldn't get some sort of positive response from her, they would have to call Ducky, which would mean they would have to call Gibbs, which meant Bethesda Emergency. And Vance. I can't do that, he thought. She's been through enough and Vance already thinks she's damaged goods. Damn him and his ultra-cool "I'm the Man" shit. Why did he have to actually SAY that to her? This is worse than Paris, and no one knows about that but us. He pulled himself together and started over.

"Please, Zee. It's just me. There's nobody here but you, me , and Abby. You're in your own house, in your own bed, and no one is going to hurt you. Can you at least look at me?" This time he dropped his voice to a tone just above a whisper, trying in the interim to inch closer to her, catch her eyes with his own. The movement worked. Ziva managed to turn her tear-stained face to his. There was even a tiny bit of recognition in her eyes.

"Tony?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but at least she was speaking. "Why are you here? They will kill you."

"Who will kill me sweetheart? Where are you? What have they done to you?" It may have been foolish to ask where she was when he had just told her, but he knew that she wasn't processing words properly at the moment. Besides, it might get her to actually verbalize some things that needed release. Who cared if she thought she was somewhere else?

"Salim and his men. You are of no use to them. Why are you here?"

Biting his lip and inwardly wincing, Tony fell into character, hoping that Abby wasn't listening in the hallway. It wasn't his pride that made him flinch. It was the knowledge that if Paris were any indication, Ziva wouldn't remember the conversation, and the things he needed to say to bring her around would be forgotten no matter how much he meant them.

"It's like I said before. Couldn't live without you, I guess. I need you around to keep me in line. Life just isn't worth it when you're not there. Besides, Salim can't kill me. I've got a plan."

"And what plan is that? Keep your voice down! They will hear you!" Now he had her attention and recognition. He could work with that even if it meant pretending to be back in Bizarro World for a little while longer. Maybe he should talk to McGee about using this to write a new video game….Or go into acting. An Oscar would look really great on his mantel next to his fraternity paddle. Who was he kidding? McGee would use it in his next novel, and his beautiful ninja would kill them both. His ninja. He really had to stop.

"The plan is to get all of us out of here alive and I've almost succeeded, but I need for you to hold on for a little longer. Could you please have your breakdown later?" Now THAT did it. Tony saw the immediate flash of anger.

"I am not having a breakdown. I am much better trained than that. It has just gotten to be a little……much, today. What do you need me to do?" Tony didn't know whether to burst with pride at her rally or burst into tears worse than those from Abby's earlier moment at the front door. Ziva watched him expectantly while he gathered his thoughts. Still using France as a reference, Tony assumed that his next words would either drag her back from her mental hell or push her further into the delusion. Banking on the former, he took a breath and began to speak softly and firmly.

"Ziva, I need for you to look at me, then I need you to look very carefully around this room. McGee is distracting the guards."

Bottomless black eyes met green. Ziva looked at Tony's disheveled form. He needs a shower and a shave, she thought distractedly, then realized that he _was_ clean and shaven. A small bell began to go off in the back of her mind. She looked closer, noting how peacefully he was sitting on the bed, unbound and apparently no worse from the beating Salim's men had given him. Beating? Bed? Ohio State sweatshirt? He smelled like Ivory soap and Drakkar Noir, not dirt, sweat, blood and filthy terrorists….Something wasn't right. Alarmed without knowing why, she began to tense, her eyes widening again. Before she could withdraw, Tony intruded into her thoughts.

"Good girl. You see me, right? Don't leave me. Stay right here and look around the room slowly."

Jostled back into the semi-present, Ziva caught his eyes again and took a deep breath. She began a visual of her surroundings, becoming increasingly agitated as she absorbed the space. No dirt floor, no bugs, no sinister pile of restraints by the door…. No locked steel door…..Bed linens, pale blue walls, a bookcase. And still Tony, oblivious to their danger, dressed like the boy next door, sitting on the edge of the bed waiting with most unnatural patience. What does he want me to do? She wondered . This room is set up like my new house….. She started to shake with the effort of trying to maintain her composure.

Seeing the shaking Tony spoke again, inching ever closer to his partner.

"Ok. You see the room for what it is now. Don't go back to that place in your head Zee. Stay with me. Do you recognize your stuff?" Still shaking, Ziva nodded. She stopped her half-hearted attempt to back away from Tony into the headboard.

"Why are you clean? Salim is not prone to allowing cleanliness to infidel spies."

"I took a shower after working out this afternoon. And that American -educated CafPow swilling nutcase is gone. You are safe. Look at me Ziva. He can't hurt you , me, or McGee. It's over." He inched close enough to touch her , but kept his hands on his legs where she could see them. He also maintained eye contact. Please, please, please stay in the present, he silently pled.

"You worked out this afternoon? I do not understand. When Abby and I left you still had…" and then came the impact of the situation. Ziva converted the last of her sentence into an inhalation which nearly sucked all the oxygen from the room, following it with a terrifying wail made even more frightening because of her usual composure. Fear, realization, mortification, and infinite sadness played across her face before she managed to get her hands up to cover her shock. They didn't stay there long, because Tony had expected it, very firmly wresting them away while wrapping his own arms around her. Ziva didn't even offer a token resistance, so torn that she not only permitted the embrace but actually welcomed it, sobbing even more loudly into his chest and holding onto him as if he were a lifeline.

"Not again, oh not again! NOT AGAIN! I will not allow it! Tony I cannot do this. It is weakness. I am alive and that is enough. He will not win! I will not allow it!" Rage crept into the emotional mix as Ziva shook and shivered by turn, bawling in what could only be termed an "Ugly Cry". No matter. Tony had thought she was beautiful after 4 months of consistent torture and no personal hygiene. He had also seen her nearly this distressed once before, so he was considerably less shocked by her weeping, although no less concerned. He tightened his hold on her and kissed the top of her head , muttering soothing noises into her hair. She smelled like lavender, shampoo, and, well Ziva. Tony took brief refuge in some violent musing. I want to bring that bastard back just long enough to kill him myself. Why should Gibbs have had all the fun? Then again, there's still Eli David to crush….Better yet, that nimrod Ben Gidon. And here she is blaming herself for a "lack of strength". I really, really want to hurt them…..

"It is most definitely NOT weakness, Zee. My guess is that it's delayed or repressed trauma," Ziva sobbed louder, and Tony heard Abby come flying down the hall for the fifth time. He hoped that she would wait for number six to actually open the bedroom door.

"It'll be ok, baby. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY can get to you here. Don't you remember what Gibbs told MiniMe Malachi? You're off limits. Even Vance backed it, and he's supposed to be your father's friend. And Salim is dead, remember? You were witness to The Great Sniper using his powers for good." Ziva gave a weak chuckle as the worst of the shaking subsided. She backed away just enough to look up at Tony's face. His expression was a study in concern, tenderness, anxiety, and…..something she had trouble attributing to him when he looked at her. Trust Tony to start making movie and television references when he was flustered.

"Who is 'MiniMe' , and why do you say that Malachi is he? And what movie has a Great Sniper? Is it not bad enough that I have become such an emotional weakling without you confusing me with characters about which I know nothing?" Ziva snuggled back into Tony's chest , finally relaxing . She was calming down , less ashamed of cracking in front of Tony this time , but still deeply troubled about the chink in her psychological armor. She had heard him say repressed trauma. His use of psychological terms meant that he was seriously worried and no longer thought of her "incident" in Paris as an aberration. Serious worry could only lead to the inclusion of Gibbs and Ducky, something she desperately wanted to avoid. She trusted both of them, but she just didn't feel up to a group share. May as well have a "Ziva Has Finally Gone Crazy Party" and invite them all, she thought morosely. Better that than someone getting their feelings hurt because they are the last to find out my dark little secret. She chuckled weakly again. Only I could find the irony in being this messed up and still worrying about everyone's feelings. She yawned into the word "Ohio" on Tony's sweatshirt, suddenly overwhelmingly sleepy. Oh yes, this is very much like what happened in Paris, she mused. Except we are in my house, neither of us is half naked, and Abby is…..OH GOD! Now Abby knows!

"Abby!"

"What about her? She's in your living room worried to death. She's the one who called me. You wouldn't respond to her, so she called in the cavalry." Tony reluctantly let Ziva back away enough to look at him again, but didn't take his hands from her. He needed the physical contact as much as she did and wasn't about to have her slip out of reach.

" I wouldn't respond? I do not understand."

"You didn't know who she was or where you were. When she tried to talk to you, you twisted into a knot and tried to become one with your headboard, honey. I feel pretty safe in saying that you scared the living shit out of her. I know how she feels. You were like that at first in Paris, and that was no joke."

A deep blush began to creep up Ziva's neck and into her face, an expression of mingled confusion and disbelief replacing shock. She dropped her eyes to the duvet.

"I do not remember."

"I figured as much. Let me guess. You remember hearing me and thinking that we were still in Somalia. And you remember when you made the switch back to the present."

"Yes. You smelled different. Clean. And you were not , what is the word, "roughed up". It did not fit with what I thought that I saw. And McGee was not on the floor."

"Do you remember anything at all before that? Like what you were thinking or even why you might have been screaming?" He knew it was fruitless to ask, but the investigator in him just had to go there.

"No. One minute I was close to sleep, the next I was in that room, with no possible escape." Ziva began to tremble again, fighting fatigue and frustration. She slid back into Tony's arms hoping the contact with his solid form would help the shaking, pleasantly surprised when it did. There was a knock on the bedroom door.

"Tony? What's going on? " Abby poked her head into the bedroom, worry etched on her face by mascara streaks.

"Hey Abs. Finally decided to brave the closed door, eh? Come on in and join the party!" Tony turned in Abby's direction, arms still firmly around Ziva, and motioned with his hand for Abby to come closer. Ziva, her face burning with embarrassment, gamely tried to smile at Abby, failing miserably. Abby chose to ignore Ziva's obvious discomfort and plopped solidly on the bed next to the two agents.

"This is like a pajama party, only there's no party and Tony's broken the rules by wearing street clothes."

"Abby, I don't wear pajamas."

" OK, not a visual that I think either I or Ziva need at the moment, although as I recall, you have quite a nice handful of ass……"

"ABBY!" Tony turned beet red, suddenly wishing heartily that he was somewhere else. "Is this how you react to stress? 'Cause I've got to say, it's a little unnerving. Stop! You'll embarrass the assassin." Looking down at Ziva, he noticed that she had begun to giggle, all earlier tension seemingly evaporated. He knew her too well to totally buy it, but gave her the temporary lie for Abby's sake. He didn't need both women dissolving into heaps. If they decided to turn on him they could kill him and destroy the evidence with very little effort. Best to pretend acceptance. Anything to reassure Abby and distract Ziva from the ghosts in her head. Ziva disengaged from Tony and allowed what passed for a light hug from Abby.

"Abby, I am sorry if I frightened you. Please forgive me. I have been an awful hostess." Abby backed up slightly, a frown of concern back on her face.

"Ziva David, don't you dare apologize for something you obviously couldn't help! I'm just glad that you know who I am now. Is this a nightly occurrence, or some weird Mossad flashback? If this is a regular feature of your sleep pattern I'm amazed that you aren't nearly dead from exhaustion! And you are NOT an awful hostess. "

"No, it is not a regular event, and it is also not a 'Mossad flashback'. I do not know what it is, but I am fine now and there is no need to worry." Ziva put on her best game face, praying that Abby was too tired and too grateful for Tony's presence to challenge her. Ziva could handle Tony alone, but the two of them together might get it into their heads that she needed a hospital and she just didn't have the strength to fight both of them at once.

Abby watched her friend's face carefully. She was not quite the master of facial expressions that, say Gibbs was, able to practically smell a lie from an eyebrow lift, but she did know when she was being played, however sweetly the play was made. This was definitely a play and it frightened her. Particularly the part where Tony was giving her the "Don't push this, let me handle it" eye from behind Ziva's head. He knows more than he's willing to say, and he's trying to protect her, she thought. This is so not good. Ziva may need a doctor, some medication, and he's stonewalling me when I called him to help. Tony's face behind Ziva grew more stern and she saw his jaw tighten. Ok, she thought, guess this means I need to make a graceful exit. But he will pay for this.

"Okay, Ziva, if you say so, but I am still worried for you. Are you sure you don't want me to call Ducky? He might be able to give you something to help you sleep." Ziva looked as if she had swallowed a hedgehog and Tony looked ready to jump out of his skin. Aha! Abby gloated to herself, that definitely hit a nerve with both of them. I bet that this has happened before. I'll let them off the hook tonight, but Tony will so have to spill to me on Monday……

"No Abby, I do not think that it is necessary to call Ducky. I had a rather bad nightmare. That is all. And I am sorry that I woke you up."

"Well, this is certainly one Girls' Night Out that I won't be forgetting anytime soon! If you don't mind, though, Ziva, I think that I might just go on home. I'm ok to drive and all , and it might help you to just be alone."

"Abby, I don't want you driving home this late unless you promise to call me when you get home".

"I second that emotion!" Tony chimed in."Too many nut cases drinking and driving. Call me on my cell when you get home. And I'll walk you out to the car."

"Listen to the Mossad Mommy and my big brother! Guys I appreciate the concern, but I am a big girl. If it matters that much to you though, I'll call you both when I get home." Geez, they're in a hurry to cut me out of whatever this is. Both of them are going to pay….Tony most of all, because he knows better than to leave me out. At least Ziva's in good hands though. Abby got up from the bed and headed for the guest bedroom to pick up her overnight bag. Tony padded after her.

"Abs, don't be mad. I promise to fill you in as soon as I know what the deal is."

"I'm not mad. I'm just a little hurt that you don't trust me to keep a secret."

"Abby I totally trust you, you know that . She just isn't in a place where she wants everybody to know."

"And by everybody I suppose you mean everyone except you? What's going on anyway? This has happened before hasn't it? I bet it was in Paris. That would be the only time you would have been the only one to see it, whatever it is. She could need some serious help, Tony."

" I know that Abby. I just don't think that it's my tale to tell. I DO know that it will be my ass if I do tell it when she trusts me to keep quiet. You know how she can be about trust issues. The last time she thought I betrayed her trust, I had to take on Vance and go to Somalia to prove myself. Trust me when I say that I'm not jonesing for a repeat anytime soon. Besides, so far it hasn't affected her job, and I don't want to get into that unless I absolutely have to. Take on Ziva about a personal trust thing? Jesus! Have you seen her knife collection alone? Not to mention what she can do with a perfectly innocent spork?" Tony visibly shivered.

"Don't give me that line about having to win her trust back, Tony! You went to Somalia because you thought Ziva was dead, you were hurting nine ways to Sunday, and you wanted revenge, pure and simple. Actually revenge is not all that pure an emotion. It's rather impure and involves quite a bit of deceit, which you guys have to use a lot in ops, not that you are liars or anythng. It's just that.....Oh Crap! I've lost my train of thought! Now I remember! You didn't go over there because of trust issues....Sell that swill to someone who's buying, DiNozzo, not me! The least you could do is not insult my intelligence when you try to humor me! I'm surprised at you Tony!" Abby picked up her bag, fixing Tony with a look that made him squirm. He really thinks that no one can see how he feels about Ziva. Tony's gone and didn't even think to lock the door behind him! I can't wait to see what happens when this goes public...

The thought of a completely in love, mooning Tony restored Abby's good humor, and she rearranged her face into a pert smile. "So Agent DiNozzo, you want to walk me to my hearse, or do I brave the porch and sidewalk alone?"

Tony blinked, coming out of the daze he reserved for Abby's rants. It still amazed him how swiftly Abby could shift gears. It could give a person emotional whiplash keeping up with her. Smiling slightly, he started to take Abby's bag for her when he realized that he had left Ziva alone for far longer than he had intended.

"Just a sec, Abs. Let me go check on Ziva. Be right back." Tony walked back down the hall to the master bedroom as quietly as he had left it. The door was ajar, so he peeked in, bracing for a possible second round. Ziva was sleeping quietly, or at least giving the appearance of it, so breathing a small sigh of relief, he turned his attention back to seeing Abby to her car. Time to get at least one of his favorite women out of the Danger Zone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor anything else about NCIS or CBS. If I did, Tony and Ziva would have gotten a room long ago and either killed one another or ended up married and giving Eli David a heart attack......So much for wishful thinking. I tried to get the disclaimer on the first chapter, but my skills just aren't up to snuff, so try,try again. Thank you for the gracious reviews. Now back to the story.....**

Tony re-entered the house, carefully locking the storm door and throwing the two ancient dead bolts on the main wooden door, eyeing them with amusement. Whoever was foolish enough to break into _this_ house would find those locks to be the least of their worries. Of all the women he knew, agents included, Ziva was by far the least likely to need _any_ security system, much less these old soldiers. It was typical of her to keep them in place, despite their decrepit condition. Spruce them up, but don't change them. She was almost Gibbs-esque in her fondness for the old lock, piece of furniture (hand finished, of course) and ancient china. Since her return from Somalia and the purchase of this house, Tony had discovered that Ziva had a decidedly traditional take on what constituted a home. She had obviously taken the words "settle down" deeply to heart.

Recalling the comfortable minimalism of her previous two apartments, he still had trouble reconciling those abodes with the house in which he now stood. Both the apartments had been in conventional, somewhat "yuppy" buildings, devoid of individuality. More "places to stay" than homes which spoke of permanence. Only a few similarities existed between those dwellings and this house. There was a couch in her den, old and overstuffed, which echoed previous models; her pots and pans could have been recovered from the apartment he had helped Rivken trash. Her sheets and towels (Tony would NEVER admit to paying attention to them in public, but after years at boarding schools and summer camps, he was painfully aware of such things) were fit for royalty, thick and luxurious bath sheets in the bathroom, high count Egyptian cotton on all the beds, even in her guest room, down duvets, not fiber-fill. Having only seen Ziva lavish such care on her weapons, Tony had been shocked the first time he noticed, playfully calling her a "Linen Snob". Her response had been a shrug. And then there were her rugs. Colorful, wool Orientals, clearly handmade and expensive, although being from the Middle East, she had probably paid more to ship them to the States than she had to purchase them. Unless, of course, they were old "family" rugs, shipping costs paid courtesy of Eli David and/or Mossad. Tony still hadn't mustered the chutzpah to enquire. His one admiring comment had been met with another shrug and a pointing finger as she indicated each visible rug with the terse words, "Kashan, Tabriz, Tabriz. Hand knotted, vegetable dyes." Since she had clearly cared enough about them to have them shipped to the U.S., her offhand response had mystified Tony and McGee, both men being present at the time, having offered to help her unpack the P.O.D. set smack in the middle of her driveway.

Ziva's remark had come towards the end of a long, enlightening day for the entire team. While Gibbs had wandered about the house with his tools, taking stock and occasionally stopping to fix something which wouldn't take hours, Tony, McGee, and Ducky had moved furniture and breakables with Ziva. It had been the boys and Ziva who had done the heavy lifting. Ducky had spent an inordinate amount of time exclaiming over and explaining the history of each piece of china, silver, or antique furniture which emerged from the cavernous trailer. At one point Ziva had instructed anyone moving a taped box to NOT open it in front of Ducky in order to save time. Heartily bored with the anecdotes, Tony and McGee had complied with alacrity. Ziva didn't have enough furniture to fill a mansion by any means, but fitting it into her relatively small house required more attention than Ducky's delighted exclamations allowed for.

Abby had been put to work unpacking the boxes of household items and linens, including a medium sized cardboard box marked "Miscellaneous". Assuming that said box contained "more of the same" (and under orders about taped boxes and Ducky), McGee had dutifully delivered it to the master bedroom for Abby to inventory. He was already at the front door when a shrieked, "JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH!" sent him and everyone else flying to the bedroom expecting a bomb at the very least. What confronted them rendered all but Ziva, who arrived at the door with her gun drawn, and the preternaturally unflappable Gibbs, speechless.

The opened box sat in the middle of Ziva's unmade bed in front of the shocked and wildly excited Abby. To its right was a flat, open, brown leather, velvet lined case. Inside the case, glinting in the sunlight from a nearby window, rested an emerald necklace with matching bracelet and earrings, each stone surrounded by large, but not obscenely large, diamonds. Cabochon cut and Columbian green, obviously old, the emeralds fairly glowed against their white velvet background. They were set in white metal-- platinum or white gold although those assembled were too astonished to ask which. All dragged their attention from the small fortune on the bed to look at Ziva, who was holstering her gun, a misty smile on her face and some sadness in her eyes. Naturally, Tony had commented with his usual diplomacy.

"So..... Where'd you get the rocks, Ziva? You could feed a Third World country with that hardware. OWWWWWW!" Tony flinched as Gibbs' hand connected to the back of his head. Gibbs eyed Ziva sympathetically, but made no effort to quash an answer, obviously as avidly curious (for once) as the others.

"They are Ima's, I mean my mother's." Ziva moved to the bed, dreamily reaching out a hand to touch first the box, then the necklace. "I have not seen them in years. Eli put them in storage shortly after she died, along with most of her things. Frankly, I thought that he had sold them to help finance some off-the-record operation." Her face took on a hard expression. "Technically, they should have been saved for me, Tali being also dead, but Eli has never been one to hold to tradition in the face of expediency."

"Tradition? What tradition? Have you been holding out on us? Are you some long lost Israeli princess come out to play? This is weird! Very cool, but weird." Tony's face registered total amazement and not a little disbelief.

"Anthony, it's a common Jewish custom that when a mother dies, her jewelry and household goods are divided first among her daughters. I would imagine that is the tradition to which Ziva refers, isn't it , my dear?" Ducky beamed with nearly grandfatherly pride. Finally this child has received something of real meaning from that despicable father of hers, he thought.

Ziva turned to her friends, in the grip of powerful memories. "Just so, Ducky. In a perfect world, what is in this cardboard box would have been split between Tali and myself." Her face closed off slightly. "Abby, take out another case."

Abby's expression wavered between fear and eagerness. "I don't know, Ziva. I don't think I could stand the shock. This necklace almost gave me a heart attack! I've seen pictures of _Russian Grand Duchesses_ wearing jewelry like this." She glanced apprehensively at Ziva, terribly curious but truly uncomfortable.

"Well, _I'm_ not scared of the damn things! Gimme one of those boxes! I guess I get now what you meant when you said to never question an Israeli when it comes to diamonds. OWWWW! Why do you guys keep headslapping me? McGee, your ass is mine!" Tony rubbed his head as he hastily withdrew his other hand from the vicinity of the now magical "Miscellaneous" box. "Somebody's got to do it, or we'll never get anything else unpacked today. Besides, I want to see."

"Yes, someone please open a few more cases. God knows, we can not keep _Tony_ in suspense any longer." Ziva's face and tone had regained a more normal level and she smirked in Tony's direction. Seeing Abby's obvious reluctance to tamper with the family jewels, she reached into the box and retrieved a black leather case roughly the same size as the first. "If memory serves, this should hold Ima's...."Her voice trailed off as the opened case revealed a set of sapphires just as old and impressive as the emeralds. There was a collective gasp as Ziva casually passed the box to an enthralled Ducky, digging into the box again, pulling out a third case with one hand and a large leather snapped folder with the other. she handed the unopened case to Abby and quickly unsnapped the folder. A pearl strand, roughly opera length, with pink tinted white pearls the size of small marbles , cascaded down the side of the bed. Ziva's eyes filled as she looked at the glowing stones. She smiled again, lost for a second time. "Ima's pearls" she breathed, handling the necklace as if it were a holy relic. "Ima used to wrap these around her neck to make a double strand. She wore them all the time, even when she was gardening. I remember her teasing Eli about being too cheap to buy her a second, shorter strand." She held the bottom portion of the necklace up to her face. "They still smell like her. Bad for the pearls, but...." She stopped abruptly, finishing the thought "infinitely precious to me" in her mind. It didn't do to dwell.

"Abby, open that case I handed to you. I promise you that you will not be vaporized."

Warily eyeing Ziva, but too curious to refuse, Abby opened the case, blue leather this time, to reveal a necklace composed of slightly graduated round diamonds, the largest easily ten carats, if not larger. Naturally, an impressive pair of earrings (dangling, two stones, bottom stone larger) and an obviously Art Deco strap bracelet completed the third set. True to her word, Abby nearly fainted. Recovering, she squealed,"I have GOT to wear this thing bowling! Sister Rosita will have a kitten!" All present burst into hysterical laughter at the visual of the rivière necklace nestling on Abby's neck just below her spiked dog collar and perched just above the collar of her "Plastic Death" teeshirt or bowling shirt. It was precisely the distraction they all needed to lighten the solemnity of the moment.

"Ok, playtime over! If you have all finished ogling Ziver's new toys, there's still almost half a container to unload. Ziva, get a safe deposit box for that stuff, or at least a wall safe, would ya?" Gibbs snorted and stalked out of the bedroom, clearly indicating an end to the "viewing". Tony and McGee followed their boss to the driveway, leaving Abby and a still slightly dazzled Ducky with Ziva, all three watching the sunlight play across the accumulated stones.

Ziva came to first, briskly closing the cases and stacking them neatly to one side. Only the pearls remained exposed, resting in a luminous pile, still partially clasped in the folder. Other cases were removed from the box and opened, each containing lovely, if less spectacular jewelry. A few brooches, a ring or two, an opal suite. While Abby exclaimed over each new discovery as if it were Christmas morning, Ducky unobtrusively studied Ziva. He watched as she made at least three attempts to repack the pearl necklace into its folder, abandoning the task each time, plainly unwilling to hide them away with the rest of the hoard. Finally he spoke.

"Ziva, my dear, I wonder if you would be so kind as to satisfy my curiosity about something."

Ziva turned to Ducky with a small smile. "Certainly Ducky, if I am able. What is it that you would like to know?"

"I can't help but notice that all these lovely pieces are not just considerably older than you are, but also quite a bit older than your father and mother, had she lived. As a matter of fact, I'd wager that the diamond rivière and the emerald parure make me appear positively youthful by comparison. At the risk of invading your privacy, I would be fascinated to hear how they came to be in your family."

" I am afraid that I do not know much beyond what I remember hearing my mother say. The majority of the older, more extravagant things came to her from _her _mother, my grandmother. Eli treated them as joint wealth, even though the intent of our custom is to provide support for the wife in a marriage, or in case of divorce--a sort of dowry, I think you would say. Tali and I were actually allowed to play with some of it, but only when my father was away. He had rather......._strong_ views about children playing with what he viewed as a financial tool. Only Ima was allowed to wear them to social functions. Obviously Tali was far too young to wear them, and by the time I was old enough to wear some of the pieces, Eli would not permit it because he said that it might make me appear to be too 'showy' in public. I always assumed that he thought that I did not have the, what is it, charisma or beauty to support them. Besides, they had nothing to do with my everyday life as I lived it, so when he refused to allow it, I did not argue. As I said, I am amazed that he did not sell them."

"And the pearls? Did they come from your mother's mother as well?"

"No. They were a gift to Ima from her father on her twenty-first birthday. I do not know where he purchased them, but they were estate, not new. My mother wore them constantly. My father resented them. Why, I am not sure. Perhaps because he did not particularly care for my grandfather."

"Ah! The age-old competition between husband and father-in-law!" Ducky arched a quizzical eyebrow, intrigued that Ziva was willing to speak so openly about such personal family dealings. At most, he had expected a friendly but superficial account of the jewelry's provenance. Ziva looked thoughtful, then highly amused.

"I doubt that, Ducky. It was probably frustration and resentment at his lack of social clout. These pearls were a constant reminder to my father that there was at least one person who could best him at something. My mother's family was somewhat prominent socially, and my grandfather never let Eli forget his luck in actually marrying Ima. Many things were said in jest which had hidden meanings. Mine was not an......easy family."

The conversation continued desultorily for a few more minutes as they discussed some of the stones in a more general way, oblivious to the fact that two sets of ears had heard the whole exchange from the hall. Tony and Gibbs, each with a box in arms, had stopped short at the door just as Ducky began his inquiry. Each had listened with a growing sense of anger and disgust----Gibbs at Eli's sheer obtuseness and callousness, Tony at Ziva's frighteningly flat assumption that she was unworthy to wear her mother's lovingly offered finery. It made him sick to his stomach. Not an "easy family"? DiNozzo Senior might be considered "not easy". Eli David was a downright nightmare. Pausing a moment, mentor and pupil had entered the bedroom giving no indication of having heard the exchanage between Ducky and the woman they each loved differently, if equally as fiercely.

A quiet sound from the master bedroom yanked Tony from his reverie in the living room. His whole "mini-vacation" had taken less than fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes that he should have been spending sitting with Ziva in case she woke up screaming again. God, I'm an idiot, he thought. I should be spending less time in my own head and more time trying to help her sort _hers_ out. Being pissed off beyond the telling with Eli David isn't going to help Zee. It's just going to make me one more member in an ever expanding club. Why are men with that kind of power and privilege invariably such pricks? I'll say this for Vance. At least he visibly loves and interacts with his family. And they love him. Of course, seven or eight years ago, Ziva would have said she loved Eli. Gibbs was right. These Israeli Mossad types ARE like the Mafia. Hell--they're worse. Vito Corleone confined his criminality to outsiders.... He heard another noise from Ziva's room and immediately switched off his interior monologue. My girl needs me. Let's see how it's gonna play out this time.


	3. Chapter 3

**This would be the Disclaimer portion of our show. Don't own them, don't have their budget, wish I could have Michael Weatherly for a few days. I swear that I would return him unharmed! Or maybe it's just Tony's character I want…..Whatever, Ziva has earned him, and he deserves the fight she's giving him! Many thanks for the continued kind reviews!**

Ziva lay quietly in her bed, concentrating on relaxing and not falling asleep—two mutually exclusive activities she was certain were becoming more mutually exclusive by the minute, especially given how warm and comfortable the bed was. I've sabotaged myself, she thought wryly. I cannot relax without falling asleep, and I cannot fall asleep without waking up shrieking. At least there are no neighbors on the other side of the bedroom wall now….

She heard Tony reenter the house, locking the door behind him, and she smiled drowsily. I suppose I should be more concerned about what he is going to say to me, but right now I am too worn out to worry about it. She snuggled deeper into her pillow and sighed heavily. NOW I truly AM awake; he is going to make this difficult, I would bet a month's pay on it. Yawning loudly like a child, she flopped over onto her left side and pulled the duvet up to her nose. I most definitely do NOT want him to fox me, no badger me, about this. Maybe he will let it go. Who am I kidding? He will make a mosquito look lazy if I rock wall him. Rock wall? That is not correct--- rock, pebble, STONE! Stone wall! That is the word! No matter. Rock or stone, he will definitely pester me, and I do not think that a strategic kiss will distract him this time. He is too worried, as am I to be brutally honest with myself. Ziva braced herself for Tony's return to the bedroom and the inevitable barrage of questions. And waited, drifting into a light sleep in the interim, too drained to sustain such a minor anxiety when a greater fear had already sapped her reserves.

Tony quietly pushed open the bedroom door, half expecting to be greeted by a pair of defiant black eyes surrounded by masses of chestnut curls. What he found instead was a sleeping, utterly spent partner who gave every indication of being dead to the world. She looked all of eighteen years old, burrowed into her pillows, one hand clutching the duvet. Tony caught his breath at the picture she presented. God Almighty, he thought, she has got to be one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Beautiful and deadly----lucky me. I wonder if she's sleeping as deeply as she appears to be…… He made his way to the side of the bed and gently touched her hair.

"Ziva? Are you sleeping or avoiding?" He kept his voice low, tender, and slightly amused, not wanting to frighten or anger her, as either of those reactions could get him killed. Part of him wanted her to slumber on so that he could look at her without the distraction of conversation.

"A little bit of both, I think. I cannot seem to sleep deeply, but I also cannot stay awake. I think that my bed is too comfortable." She opened her eyes and smiled drowsily at him, moving slightly to give Tony room to sit on the edge of the bed, which he instantly did. "You wish to call Ducky and Gibbs, do you not? It really is not necessary. As you can see, the worst is over. It is nothing that I cannot contain."

"That's exactly what you said in Paris once you stopped screaming. Apparently you _haven't_ contained it. And no, I don't want to call Gibbs or Ducky, _yet._ I think you need to talk about this, whatever it is, and this time I'm not leaving until you do. It's a Friday night, there's no witness to pick up, and we're not on call this weekend. So unless you're prepared to shoot me to get me to leave, I'm staying put and helping you whether you want it or not. This freaking out at "O Dark Thirty" thing is starting to cramp my style. What if I had had a date?" Tony instantly regretted that last flippant remark, but gave a mental shrug. It's not like she's given me any definite encouragement, he thought. May as well put it out there and see what she does with it.

Ziva regarded her partner with annoyed petulance. How like Tony to make demands and insult me at the same time. As if I invented these nightmares just to piss him off. Selfish twit! No, not selfish twit. He _did_ come here, and no one could have been more comforting in Paris or tonight. And he has kept it quiet. Damn, I hate that he has this effect on me. She reluctantly met his eyes—they were that shade of dark green which indicated deep concern and stubborn persistence. I could shoot him, but the paperwork would take forever. Maybe I can put him off…….

"Well, alright. Suit yourself. I must warn you though. There is not much food in the house, and I have very few movie channels. You will be bored beyond reason."

" We can order out, and I don't recall saying that I was staying for a Film Festival." Tony met her eyes evenly. He didn't want to corner her, but he needed for her to see that he was serious. He was astonished at her instant compliance. And suspicious. This couldn't be the whole of her avoidance plan. He knew from experience that her mind worked in almost as Byzantine a pattern as Gibbs' ….or her father's. He waited for Ziva to engage her "Plan B".

"What do you wish to discuss? I already told you that I have no memory of the actual dream, only the end. Apparently your short term memory is failing. You are forty years old, yes? Perhaps you should have Ducky check _you_ out. I have read that lower testosterone levels in middle-aged men can contribute to memory loss. You might want to see to that." She smiled sweetly at Tony, giving every appearance of real concern.

"Nice try, Sweet Cheeks, but no joy! You'd have gotten farther kissing me again. At least _that_ would've distracted me." Tony grinned at Ziva's obvious discomfiture. Sparring with her at least got her talking. It was only a matter of time before she let him in. He was willing to wait it out. Besides, it added some levity to a deadly serious situation.

"I do not know what you wish me to say, Tony. It is a nightmare. It involves Salim. It terrifies me and I wake up screaming. You now know what I know. End of discussion."

"_Not _end of discussion! Something obviously happened over there that has gotten past all your ninja training. We need to figure out what it is."

"_We_, Tony?"

"Yes, _we._ At this point, I'm as invested as you are, even if whatever 'it' is didn't actually happen to me, because I'm the one who's had to peel you off the ceiling twice now. I might also add that I'm one of the people who cared enough about you to go gunning for that sociopathic motherfucker when your own father was content to sit in Tel Aviv with his thumb up his ass while you rotted in that damn camp!" Tony's voice rose as he warmed to his topic. Dammit, he thought, I don't want to go there, but I will if she makes me. This is getting ridiculous. Why must she persist in believing that she's totally alone in everything? It's like some kind of disease with her….. "You may as well accept that I've got your six whether you want me to or not. Save yourself some grief and deal with it. It's not going to change. We've been partners too long for me to be any other way."

"And you couldn't live without me….."Ziva put on a smirk, stung .

"Yeah, I couldn't live without you. I _can't _live without you. It may be weird, twisted, and bizarrely symbiotic, but it's the truth. I was _this close_ to being suicidal because I thought you were dead, and I couldn't take another partner being dead. Interviewing for your supposed replacement was hell for both me and McGee, not to mention Gibbs, even though we knew it had to be done. So there! I had to be shot up with truth serum to say it the first time; not now. Look, if I can look you in the eye, sitting on your bed, and say that, you can let go of some of this shit you've been carrying around. I'd think you'd rather tell _me_ than some company shrink. Christ Ziva! I haven't spilled all this to hurt you!" Tony instantly changed his tone as tears started to roll down Ziva's face. She hadn't said a word to interrupt him, merely listened as it became increasingly clear that Tony was not trying to bait her into compliance. He may have started out with that intention; the end was quite different. It was obvious that he meant every word that he had said. Ziva put her hand on Tony's, her voice soft and slightly stunned.

"I trust you with my life, Tony DiNozzo, and I have already admitted to you how wrong I was to question your motives before. I do not question your motives now. Perhaps I do not wish to go to those places from Somalia not just for my own sanity, but to protect _all_ of you. It is bad enough that I was subjected to it and have to live with it. To give it voice even one minute in the present is to keep it alive when it is better dead and buried. I cannot inflict that on you or anyone else I care about. It is my burden to shoulder." Tony's hand felt surprisingly warm in her own. He laced his fingers into hers as he maintained eye contact. His tone became strangely reasonable.

"If you are having hideous nightmares and waking up terrified and incoherent, then 'it' is not dead and buried My Ninja. 'It' is controlling you at your most vulnerable moment. Salim scores a win every time this happens. I don't know about you but I'm not willing to give that bastard _anything_. He's taken enough. As for protecting me, I'm a cop. I'm also a big boy. I can take it. In case you hadn't noticed, you don't have the corner on strength. I've got pretty broad shoulders."

"That is just the point, Tony. Why should you, Gibbs, or anyone else have to carry the burden? It is mine. I have been trained to handle much worse. If I am failing to handle things, it is obviously a flaw of mine for which I must compensate."

"So you think that you _deserve_ these nightmares as punishment for your lack of strength? That's total bullshit!" Tony snorted in disgust, tightening his grip on Ziva's hand and capturing her other hand with his. She didn't resist him, suddenly looking small and ashamed. "Listen honey, you're one of the toughest people I know. We're not talking about you crying over a skinned knee, or even a bullet wound. You've been through stuff that would probably have killed me and definitely would have put McGoo over the edge. All I'm asking is that you let some of it out. You can't bury it. If you do, it'll eat you alive. It's already started to."

"That is what Gibbs said."

"What is?"

"That it is no good to bury it. That burying it will destroy me. He was referring to what passed on the Damocles."

"Well? What did you do?"

"I told him." Ziva's voice was small.

"Did it help?"

"That part of it, yes. The part that felt remorse over Cryer and ……some other things."

"But this is another piece of the puzzle. And it's getting the upper hand. C'mon Ziva!" Tony looked her squarely in the face, silently pleading with her to finally open up. To his complete and utter astonishment, she did. Taking a deep breath, Ziva quietly began.

"Salim tortured me."

"I know. I saw that most recent set of bruises." Tony kept his voice rigidly neutral.

"They were nothing. He broke bones, then had them set so that he could break them again. He starved me, denied me water. There were times that I thought I would go mad from thirst. And the drugs. He nearly caused me to overdose on some concoction of his. Naturally, it was my fault and I received a beating for it. Sometimes it was a club, sometimes a chain, others rope or leather. I used to _hope_ for just his fists or an openhanded slap, even if it made me bleed." Ziva's voice became gradually smaller as she lost herself in the recollection. "And the burns. Did you know, Tony, that one small third degree burn can inflict more pain than a ten minute beating? It can."

Tony's stomach heaved, and he fought to keep his face passive. He knew that any display of pity or revulsion would cause Ziva to shut down. If she sensed for one nanosecond that he might perceive her as a victim, she would stop talking, possibly for good. She continued, still in that small voice, strangely disconnected.

"He once put fifteen burns on me before finally putting out his cigar. It was my fault it went on so long. I refused to scream and it angered him." Ziva's smile was chilling. "I do not believe that he thought a woman could withstand such pain."

Tony swallowed hard. "Why did you count?"

Ziva smiled again. "I had nothing else to do, and it helped to keep me from screaming. A diversion if you like."

Tony didn't like. As a matter of fact, he was close to tears. He had known in his head, of course, that she had been tortured. Knowing intellectually, however, was different from hearing it presented so dispassionately from the object herself. Man up, DiNozzo, he scolded himself. If she could live it, you can listen to it.

"Go on. Get it out."

" He raped me, he and Mahmud. It could not have been enjoyable for them, because I did not fight." Again that creepy, chilling smile. "Sometimes my submission unmanned them, and I would get a beating for that, too. Strangely, it was their violence, not the sexual violation, that was most dismaying to me. The worst was when they would use me and leave me naked in my cell because they said that I was too worthless to waste clothes on, and had not earned the right to wear them. That was most difficult to divert. I had no tools for that other than total mental shutdown, I did not know what to do. Tony, I had NO PLACE in my head to go, no reference point, and they kept coming back, again and again!" She began to shake with the memory, reliving the helplessness that, for her, was far more of a violation than the actual rapes. Taking the risk of losing one of his hands, Tony reached out and gripped her left shoulder, squeezing gently in an attempt to bring her back to the present.

"Hold on, baby. He's dead and you're safe. You're also totally in control." Tony searched her face for a glimmer of return. There was emptiness in her eyes when she met his gaze. Emptiness and utter despair. For the second time during her recitation, he felt ready to weep.

"Tony, I did not know what to do. I had no preparation for it. The helplessness blindsided me, and I wanted to die." She looked away from him, repeating simply, "I wanted to die."

"And you didn't. You won. In the end you beat him, so the lack of preparation made no difference. _You won."_

Ziva looked back at Tony, at the intensity of his expression. Bless him, he actually believes what he is saying. How can he understand how much it has cost me?

"Tony, I want to show you something."

Ziva untangled her hand and shoulder from Tony's grip, flipped back the duvet, and stood up in front of him. She returned his bemused gaze with sad eyes and turned her back to him, slowly removing the oversized teeshirt she had worn to bed.

Tony was confronted with a view that under different circumstances would have given him fodder for many a fantasy. Even under the present conditions, his mouth went dry and he felt a familiar tightening in his groin. Blazing anger soon crowded out the desire. That he had seen this expanse of bare back before, in its original pristine state, just fueled his rage.

The superbly toned muscles remained the same, as did the feminine curve of her lower back and the gentle slope of her shoulders. The small bumps of her backbone still only slightly protruded despite her time in captivity. It was here that all similarity to Tony's previous visual ended.

Starting from just where Ziva's neck met her shoulders , continuing down the expanse of her back to the backs of her thighs, scars, both large and small, and sinister burn marks crisscrossed and peppered the creamy skin. Ziva would never be able to wear an open backed garment again, much less a bathing suit, without having her back announce to the world what she had endured. It was one of the most ghastly desecrations perpetrated on a living human being that Tony had ever seen. He felt his hands clenching and unclenching impotently as he continued to take in the damage to Ziva's back. He had the same feeling he would have gotten over the deliberate destruction of something sacred. How could she stand so impassively under his gaze? It was monstrous.

Half in disbelief, he reached out and touched a circular burn scar on her right shoulder, then traced a long thin diagonal scar which ran across the middle of her back. His left hand came up to touch an identical burn mark on her left shoulder. Ziva remained very still under his touch, although she had relaxed into his hands. He could tell she was crying again, silently, proudly. It crushed him and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair and the crook of her neck.

"It's okay, Zee. It's okay. Jesus! I had no idea…..That bastard is lucky he's dead. If he were alive and in custody, I'd fucking kill him! Slowly. Or give you a shot at him. Oh my God!" Tony felt himself unraveling, but couldn't stop. She's been carrying this around ALONE for months. He kissed the side of her neck and tightened his embrace. How could I have missed this when we were in Paris? Now I understand why she was so squirrely about low light and dressing in the bathroom. And all this time I thought that she was just jetlagged and cranky. I'm an idiot in an investigator's suit.

Ziva felt Tony's arms tighten and the solid bulk of his chest as he pulled her into him, just as she had felt his deliberate tracings on her back. Now he will know just how bad it was and be so revolted that he will back off. Maybe now he will understand why I have to carry this by myself. Instead, she felt him kiss her neck and heard him start to talk. He held her closer rather than letting her slip carefully out of reach. It was definitely not the reaction she had anticipated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Once again, disclaimer alert! Your humble scribe owns nothing to do with NCIS or its characters. Continued thanks to those who have enjoyed my scribbles. I might add that the justification for the "M"rating is on its way. Take any necessary precautions you need to take. **

How did I get to this, Ziva wondered. I have been back well over six months, and here I stand, half-naked (OH GOD-AGAIN!) and shaking in Tony's arms. This time it's in my OWN HOUSE! There is no good reason to inflict this pain on _any_ of them when they have already risked their lives and careers for me. Especially Gibbs and this goofball currently holding me. They do not deserve this. She sniffed loudly, turning to face Tony, planning to put him off in spite of her previous revelations. She was totally unprepared for what she saw in his face.

Tony was crying. Apparently I am not the only one falling apart tonight, Ziva thought. Shocked, she tried to disengage enough to give both of them some space, but his arms were like iron. He loosened them just enough to allow her some movement, then reached up to push back some stray curls from her face. She swallowed hard at his expression. There was deeply simmering anger, sorrow, desire (he would not be Tony if he had _not_ noticed her body, she thought wryly), and that _other _thing. My God, he is a mess, and it is all my fault. She slid a hand up between them to touch his cheek, and tried to smile.

"Tony, I am sorry to have put this on you, but perhaps now you understand why this has to be my fight. I wanted you to see why there is nothing you can do. _I _have to find a way to live with these disgusting reminders and accept them. There is nothing anyone else can do." His face was wet, and he still refused to loosen his hold. He looked at her searchingly for a moment which seemed like hours to Ziva, then pulled her in for a hug which was so tight it would have done justice to Abby at her most enthusiastic. Her bones almost cracked.

"Listen to me very carefully, Ziva, because I'm only going to say this once. In fact, you might want to tape it so that you can hear it later. Scratch that! I'm not letting go of you long enough for you to find a wire. You'll just have to commit it to memory." His hands ran up her arms to her shoulders and he pushed her slightly away so that she could look at him. "You have dealt with this far too long ALONE. I don't know where you get this 'it's all my baggage to carry' shit, but that's done. I'M done! As of this minute, it's OUR baggage. If you're frightened, say something to ANY of us. If you wake up screaming in the middle of the night, call me. It's too much for you to carry and it's killing your soul. We didn't go all the way to North Africa to watch you die inside once you got home. If it makes you feel better, convince yourself that it's the unselfish thing to do. Oh, and this scarring on your back?" He leant down so that he was eye level with Ziva, whose eyes had widened to the size of saucers. "These scars aren't disgusting. They are scary and it breaks my heart that you had to go through that, but _disgusting_? No way!" He paused for breath, torn between annoyance and urgency. He had to make her understand.

"Yes, they are not disgusting to you, because you pity me. But to others…..Tony, my body has always been one of my most useful tools, and now it is irreparably damaged. At least its appearance. As Vance said, I am damaged goods."

Tony stared at Ziva in disbelief. "You mean you actually BOUGHT that bullshit? Okay, so you're scarred up some. So that makes you just beautiful instead of outrageously gorgeous to some. What a load of crap! And I do NOT pity you! I value my life way too much to even _think_ about pityng you. Jesus! Do you need to get out of your guilt-ridden head space! Next thing we know, you'll be blaming yourself for global warming! Why don't we just call Michael Moore and have him scare up a 'Blame Ziva For It All' exposé? Would that snap you out of it? Good God!"

Ziva would have run and barricaded herself in the bathroom if she could have, but she would have had to break one of Tony's arms to do it. She felt totally overwhelmed, and Tony's rapidly flaring anger was confusing her.

"If this is your idea of helping, then perhaps you could leave me to my nightmares and liquor cabinet! Really Tony, this is why I have not discussed this with anyone. Do you not think that I know how stupid it sounds for me to say that some simple physical damage and a feeling of helplessness have made me so soft? I have been conditioned all my life to disregard certain things, and now I find myself fixating on them. I cannot stop. And you are right. It is killing me, but it is bad enough that _I_ am going through this. It is shameful and horrid. I will NOT inflict it on the rest of you!"

"Too late, Ninja Girl! I don't know about the 'rest of you', by which I assume you mean Gibbs, Ducky, Abs, and McGee, but you made it MY business when you woke up screaming in Paris, not to mention when I ended up tied to that damn chair in Somalia. And I'm NOT leaving until we work this out. Unless of course, you pull that Nine Millimeter under your pillow out and shoot me. Go ahead, ZeeVah-take a shot if it will make you feel better!"

Exasperated, Ziva glared at him. "Why do you always think that inflicting damage on you will make me feel better?"

"Because it usually does. Besides, you're always threatening to kill me or cut off appendages over _something_. What's the matter? Does having permission take all the fun out of it?" Tony arched an eyebrow quizzically at his partner. The air was thick with emotions he was having trouble processing, so he took refuge in argument. He did not, however, release Ziva from his grip. Issuing an invitation to shoot him was far different from taking the chance of actually getting shot.

Ziva sighed heavily. Tony obviously intended to make good on his promise, and she was too tired to keep up her end of the argument. Fighting with him required far more energy than she was willing to expend at the moment. She suddenly came to the realization that she didn't _want_ to fight with him, not really. And there was the issue of her naked torso- she had only meant to slide halfway out of the teeshirt, not stand nude except for her panties in front of the NCIS 'Ogler Of The Year'. She glanced to her left. The shirt lay in a pile on the floor. Oh well, she thought , let it stay there. I would look foolish making a dive for it. Besides, he has seen the worst. He has also seen me naked. Whatever. She looked up at him and smiled tiredly.

"Rest easy, Furry Man! I will not shoot you. I know you are trying to help. You are a good man, Anthony DiNozzo, and I should say so more often." She smirked in an attempt to lighten the mood. "That is, I should say it _privately_ more often. A public announcement would only enlarge your ego, which is too big already!"

Tony relaxed his hold on her arms, smiling back. The first storm had passed without casualties-maybe it would be okay after all. The thought of calling Gibbs or Ducky suddenly seemed to be a gross violation of Ziva's privacy.

"You're right! I _am_ a good guy. Generous of you to notice. Whaddya say we get you back into bed and see if you can get some real sleep? Unless of course, you have some better ideas about passing what's left of the night?" His gaze slid appreciatively over Ziva's bare torso and down her flat stomach. I could make a meal, he thought. Stop it, DiNozzo! She's vulnerable and this is definitely a 'Red Light' moment! 'Red Light' moment? Where the hell did that come from? He leaned over and picked up the teeshirt, still smiling as he handed it to Ziva.

"I have many ideas at many times of the day, Tony, but I do not care to share them at the moment." She took the proffered garment and dropped it over her head. "Thank you. Did you enjoy the view?"

"Always do. My only complaint is that I don't get to see you like that more often." He ruefully rubbed his face and sat back down on the bed . "They should change the dress code at work." He grinned at the thought.

"Be careful what you wish for. Remember Alice Forham in the mail room. She must weigh three hundred pounds. That is not a particularly charming visual." Ziva giggled as she slid back into bed. "Although you may have caught onto something….Think of Richard Ellison! Yum!" Tony grimaced.

"Thanks, but as you know, I don't play for that team. And if you're going to bring up Alice, we can't forget Mark Ryan. Now _that_ ought to give you some nice dreams…."

"Oh, but you are impossible! I have already had one nightmare tonight!" Ziva started genuinely laughing for the first time since Tony had arrived. "Get off my bed, you pervert! There will be hair on my duvet for weeks!"

"Now that's just not fair! I have my shirt on! But if you're going to blame me for something, I may as well do it!" Without further warning, Tony peeled off his sweatshirt, lay back across the bed, stretched luxuriously, then rolled onto his stomach, grinning at Ziva. She laughed harder, trying halfheartedly to push all six-feet two inches of him off the bed, seriously hampered by her laughter and a lack of leverage. She pushed again, still laughing, only to have her efforts blocked as Tony, pulling foolish faces, slithered around on her duvet, swatting away her hands as easily as if they were bugs. He looked like a cheerfully naughty little boy, eyes dancing as he teased her, pleased beyond words to see her happy, even if it was temporary. She needs to play more often. I mean _really_ play, he thought. She hasn't had nearly enough of that in her life. Still laughing with Ziva, he caught her by the waist and began to tickle her. It was purely instinctual on his part, although somewhere in the recesses of his mind he recalled her jumping and squeaking when he had poked her once. It was just natural for him to play that way. Sure enough, she started and squeaked, then proceeded to tickle right back, pouncing on him, her hair falling everywhere. He flipped her onto her back, fingers fluttering up and down her waist as he tried to retake the upper hand, still intent on fun, suddenly noticing how her face lit up when she laughed. In a flash his whole perspective changed.

Ziva lay beneath him laughing unrestrainedly, wriggling for a better angle of attack, trying in vain to shift his body without resorting to tactics which might hurt him. She was still smiling when he stopped tickling her to push yet more hair off her face. Her laughter died in her throat at the look on his face.

He was still smiling, an unruly lock of hair falling onto his forehead. Slightly winded, he had shifted the bulk of his weight to his legs and one elbow. It was his eyes though, that caught her off guard. They were deep emerald and almost bottomless. There were familiar elements in his stare—the openness, the sense of fun, but these were entirely overshadowed by serious passion of the most adult variety. Playfulness had suddenly taken a backseat to something far more overwhelming.

Ziva felt an answering stab of desire flood her body, starting with her toes, working its way up, leaving congestion between her legs and a delightful tingle everywhere else. She became acutely aware of the _feel_ of him, the texture of the skin on his back, the hair on his chest. And his scent—still Ivory Soap mixed with his cologne, but something else she could only identify as _Tony_. When did this harmless tickle match switch gears, she wondered foggily. She felt dizzy and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Tony was still looking at her with the barely restrained expression of a starving man seeing food after months of deprivation.

"Tony, what are you thinking?" She questioned softly, unwilling to totally break the spell. For some reason she couldn't quite pinpoint, this felt right. His smile turned tender and he ran his right hand through her hair, letting it come to rest on the side of her neck. She noticed that he made no move to shift off of her.

"What am I thinking? A lot of things. That you smell delicious, that you have some of the darkest, most expressive eyes I've ever seen, that your hair is incredibly soft……that I'm incredibly lucky that you haven't put your knee in my crotch."

"_Yet._"

"Yet." Tony smirked, then became solemn. " The list is pretty long. You might want me to get off of you before I continue."

"You could, but I do not think that you are in a particular hurry to do so. I am not squashed." Ziva lowered her voice to a hush, holding his heated gaze with her own. "Are you thinking about Rule Number Twelve?"

"Frankly, I'm thinking of blowing it straight to Hell! Then again, what I'm contemplating doing in the near future has _nothing_ to do with _dating_." Unable to help himself, Tony leaned down to breath in Ziva's hair, inordinately pleased to see her close her eyes again. He had long since begun to disregard the caution alarms buzzing in his head. Yes she was vulnerable, yes she had had a bitch of a nightmare, yes she was dealing with a huge slice of unnecessary self-blame. BUT, he had finally gotten her to open up and she trusted him. He could handle this. She could handle this. He swallowed hard. If she says no, I'll have to sit in ice for a week. She very well may. And I'll do it, too. Face it, Tony, you're gone. Shifting his body slightly, he looked at Ziva, at the way her sooty lashes fanned out against the tops of her cheekbones.

"Your turn. What are _you_ thinking? And open your eyes. Unless you're sleeping…"Her eyes flew open and she met his gaze steadily.

"No, I am not sleeping. I was waiting for you to stop smelling me." She ran her hands down Tony's back, stopping just above the waistband of his jeans. "This is not Paris, Tony. We cannot blame this……physical reaction on France. I also do not want to think that _my_ response to you is …..based on impulse or gratitude." She took the sting out of her Vulcan like logic by sliding her right hand up Tony's stomach and over his chest, smiling at the way his breath hitched and the color of his eyes darkened further. "Aren't your arms getting tired?"

"My arms aren't tired. They're hungry. Pretty much like the rest of me. Your call, ninja. I'm _very_ clear about _my _motives. I want you. All of you. I want to get lost in you and watch you get lost in me. I'm even jealous of Gibbs, for God's sake. I _know_ this isn't Paris. My physical reaction to you has NOTHING to do with locale and EVERYTHING to do with YOU. Is that clear enough for you O QUEEN OF COLD LOGIC IN HOT SITUATIONS?"

Ziva burst into giggles."You make me sound like a character from one of McGee's computer games! Poor Tony! If I am that cold, perhaps you should rethink your plans. I might disappoint you." She emphasized her words by running her fingers through Tony's hair, softly scratching his scalp. He leaned into her hand, for all the world like a large cat. She half-expected him to purr. "So…..Are you just going to lay on top of me and smell my hair, or are you going to kiss me sometime tonight?"

"Oh, I'll do more than kiss you. I was just waiting for the go ahead. I know how many weapons you keep in this house, remember?" He grinned. Ziva almost went breathless at the flash in his eyes as he lowered his head to hers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer, disclaimer, disclaimer. Take it for what you will. At the risk of spoiling the Season Finale, has anyone else started to see the fine malicious hand of Eli David in all this? I thought all along that Bell was too obvious a villain. Now that Bell is dead, I am even more convinced. But, I digress. In the following world, Abby has yet to go to Mexico. She will, but not for a while. I continue to extend my gratitude to those kind enough to comment. The "M" rating for this story should be taken seriously for this chapter in particular. **

Ziva had kissed Tony before, always filled with ulterior motives of one form or another, but she still thought that she knew what to expect. She knew he liked to hold faces for a good angle, and that his mouth was softer than it looked. What she didn't know was how much of himself he had held back from her previously. This was _not _her arrogant, goofy, overly libidinous partner. This was a man on a very specific mission. He slanted his mouth against hers, sliding his tongue between her teeth, concentrating his entire self (at least that's what it felt like to her) into the kiss, threading both hands into her hair in order to hold her head still. Gobsmacked, she felt her arms come up around his neck automatically. Her last coherent thought centered around the fact that his mouth tasted like toothpaste and that she might just come on the spot from the kiss alone. He must have sensed it, because he pulled away from her mouth to nuzzle her neck and lick the soft skin under her earlobe. His mouth traveled to where her neck met her shoulder, and he very softly bit the curve, inhaling the scent of her skin, then groaning in frustration as he hit the neckline of her teeshirt.

"I _knew_ I should have left this thing on the floor!" he muttered softly. "Ziva…..honey…..please…" Tony rolled to the side and pulled her into a sitting position, frowning slightly at her obvious amusement. His hands played with the hem of her shirt as he went after her mouth again. Ziva's hands slid around his neck, stroking his back and shoulders. My God, he may actually get me there before I'm undressed, she thought. Oh no- we can not have that! I need the contact! Pushing his hands aside, she pulled off her shirt in one smooth movement, then went for his jeans, leaning in to kiss and lick her way down his chest and stomach. His hands continued to play in her hair as she finally got his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped. She spared a scorching glance at Tony's face which gave him the opportunity he needed to push her back into the bed, raw need blazing in his eyes. And he stopped.

Ziva lay prone on the bed, all tousled hair and swollen lips, staring up at Tony in a haze of desire. She cursed in Hebrew when he stilled her hands, tried to sit up, cursed again when he laughed softly at her frustration.

"Calm down Zee! I'm not going anywhere. Slow down. I just want a second or two to look at you. I've waited five years to do this with you, and I intend to make it count. A couple more minutes won't hurt."

Ziva immediately settled back into the bed. She caught Tony's eye and slowly, deliberately, drew her right index finger from the top of her panty line up her stomach, between her breasts, and into her mouth, where she sucked on it, the smile on her face filled with heat and promise.

"You are not the only one who likes to look. When are you planning to get those pants off? I would imagine they are quite uncomfortable at the moment, are they not?" She smiled seductively at him again, stifling a giggle at the expression on his face. He was so hot and bothered that he was almost helpless….

"Oh, I intend to lose these pants, don't you worry! But right now I have other plans." Answering the challenge in her eyes, Tony leaned down and placed a wet kiss on her stomach, reaching out to gently squeeze her breast as he moved his mouth lower, pushing Ziva's underwear down as he went.

She was so worked up that he could see moisture on the inside of her legs which had soaked through her panties. She raised her hips enough for him to slide the impediment off, making an extremely relieved noise as he nudged her legs apart, sliding his tongue up the inside of her thigh. He felt lightheaded-she tasted as good as she felt and he hadn't even gotten to the main course. Tony chuckled softly into her thigh. There I go thinking about making a meal out of her again. The heel of Ziva's foot bounced against his shoulder blade and a pair of extremely impatient hands clutched at his hair. He looked up across the small patch of black curls at her core to meet her frazzled gaze as he let his right hand slide down her stomach. Still holding her eyes with his, he eased forward and kissed her soundly on those curls as he slid two fingers into her slick center, then added his tongue to his fingers. Ziva keened loudly, arching up against his hand, her hands reflexively clutching his head, pulling his hair. She clenched around his fingers, moaning as he gave her just enough pressure and movement to push her, but not enough to climax.

"Tony….You are going to pay for this! I need…" She choked off mid-sentence when he stilled his hand. He slid up her body to meet her eyes head on, keeping his fingers where they could do the most good, leaning on his left arm. His voice, when he finally spoke, was six shades of ragged and his pupils were blown from the effects of his slow exploration of her body, not to mention the effort of maintaining some sort of control over his own body. His smile was loving, smug, and slightly predatory.

"_What _do you need, My Ninja? This?" He pushed forward and slightly bent the fingers inside her. Ziva bit her lower lip and groaned again. "Or this?" He bent his head down and caught her left breast in his mouth, sucking hard. Another groan, and nails raked down his back as she arched up to him. They would leave marks, but Tony didn't care. He barely even felt them, so intent was he on making her lose herself. His own arousal was bound so tightly to her responses that it _almost_ felt as good to him to make her mindless as he thought it would feel to actually be _in_ her. Blood pounding in his head, he switched to her other breast, reveling in Ziva, so far gone he missed the second it took for her to push off his jeans. And the other second she used to remove his boxers. Consequently, he nearly exploded when her hand closed around him and she licked the side of his neck. His whole body jerked in response, and she laughed breathlessly into his ear.

"Surprise my Furry Bear! I bet you did not know that I could undress you with my feet! That should teach you to spoil my fun! OH!" She clamped down on his fingers, shivering as he growled into her neck.

"Spoiled your fun, huh? Guess I'd better up my game! God you feel good! Almost as good as you _taste_!"He pulled his fingers from her warmth and deliberately licked them before kissing her with absolutely no restraint, his tongue thrusting into her mouth the way his fingers had pushed into her earlier. Ziva let go of his erection and raked his back again, grabbing his backside as she raised her knees to offer him better access. She was so close to the edge, heart pounding, every inch of her on fire. What tiny part of her mind still functioning marveled that Tony hadn't already pounded her into the mattress. He must have put a lot of thought into what he wanted to do with me….Her head started to swim again.

"Tony……please…."

"Please what, ZeeVah? Take you to where I am? Make you scream?" He punctuated his questions with more kisses, delighting in the feel of her. Her hands were everywhere and she was returning his kisses with passion equal to his own. His own barely contained control was slipping by the second. Ziva was purposely making it difficult for him. She had obviously recovered from the mind-blowing shock of the depth of his passion and was making up for lost time, touching, licking, kissing whatever parts of him she could reach, half stoned from the feel of him.

Tony made a feeble attempt to gain back some control as Ziva whined an incoherent answer to his questions, giving it up when he saw her eyes. They were black as pitch now, pupils every bit as blown as his , and from the same consuming sensations. She finally managed to grate out a few comprehensible words in English.

"You…..In….Me…..NOW!" She grasped for him and arched her hips in what could only be described as a demand, surging up to bite his shoulder none too gently for emphasis. He had no other option than to comply, as if he would have refused her.

He wasn't rough as he entered her, but neither was he excessively gentle. Neither of them was in a state for hearts and flowers, slow motion restraint. Tony tried to slow down enough for her to adjust to him, the bells ringing in his head reminding that she had been raped, but Ziva wouldn't allow it. She was moving under him almost immediately, hot and tight, devouring him with both her mouth and her heat, nails digging into his buttocks as she twisted to give him a better angle. Giving up, he surrendered to her pace and pounded into her, deciding that if he suddenly stroked out , it would be the best possible way to go.

Ziva felt as if she were coming apart. None of their previous physical contact had _ever_ led her to believe that she could be this consumed by Tony. And she was consumed, totally into his eyes, his body, his hardness filling her, his scent. In an instant, she shattered around him, holding onto him to maintain some sort of contact with reality. His release followed almost immediately, and he nearly collapsed on top of her from the intensity.

And yes, she had screamed. Then laughed quietly at the mental image she had of the two of them tangled up in one another, too spent to move, hearts still pounding violently enough for them to hear. At least Tony had the energy to kiss her neck and nuzzle her between her breasts. I'm done, she thought, and I cannot remember the last time I felt like this. If ever. Tony raised his head from her chest to look at her, his expression that of the cat who has finally gotten to swallow a much pursued canary. She let it slide because he looked so terribly happy. And there was love there, too. Enough love to almost frighten her. She smiled back at him, still too disjointed to speak, and raised a hand to push that stubborn hair from his forehead again.

"Well, I must have done something right this time. Last time you were underneath me like this, you grabbed for the remote." He looked like a mischievous child for just a moment, a ridiculous comparison given the circumstances. Then again, this _was _Tony. Abby had it right- he was all soft and goofy on the outside, solid rock on the inside. Ziva pulled his face up to hers and kissed him.

"As I recall, that time I was underneath you, we were undercover. Besides, I could not muster the energy to grab a remote right now even if I had one nearby."

Tony grinned even wider, shifting slightly to give her some breathing space, but still staying inside her. "You should have warned me that you get so hot. That just made page fifty-seven look weak. Do you need me to move?" He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in and tasting her skin again. God, I adore her. It would kill me to lose her, he thought, then blinked at the realization.

Ziva's hands ran idly over his back. "No. I like the way you feel and…." Her voice became softer and vulnerable, "I do not wish for you to…move out. It grounds me. That probably sounds horribly clingish."

"Clingy. And no, it doesn't." Tony was quiet for a moment. "Well, maybe just a little, but I understand. I'm pretty much there myself. But I probably should move. You have to breath." He kissed her again and rolled to one side, pulling her onto his chest. "So Sweet Cheeks……..how much deodorant do you think I need?" His tone was playful, but his hands felt quite serious as they stroked her arms and back, clearly unwilling to lose any contact. His gaze was loving, if decidedly possessive.

"At the moment, I do not notice." She smiled slyly at him. "If, however, you decide to order a back massage, I may change my mind." She draped herself more comfortably on top of him, sighing contentedly when he tightened his arms around her. They were quiet for a while, listening to each other breath, imprinting the feeling of each other's bodies into their skins. Tony's fingers began to randomly trace the scars on Ziva's back and she tensed. He immediately gave her a squeeze, mentally headslappping himself.

"Tony?" Her voice was carefully, terribly flat.

"Yeah?" He braced himself for Ninja Rejection, wondering how many minutes he had to live, and what, if anything, he could do to fix what was coming.

Ziva's voice was barely audible and filled with doubt, surprising Tony and tearing at his heart, considering what had just passed between them. "Did you really mean it earlier when you said that I was beautiful?" He could here the unwilling curiosity mingled with the doubt, and it almost made him cry again.

" I think that what I said was that you were beautiful instead of outrageously gorgeous. I was wrong to say that and I want to change my comment. I've decided that you are outrageously _hot and gorgeous_. That's my story and I'm sticking to it." She immediately relaxed and yawned noisily.

"Good answer. I would hate to kill you and deprive myself of the opportunity for a repeat engagement."

"Yeah, well, thanks for letting me live. By the way, Ziva, I love you." His hands played in her hair, and he nuzzled the top of her head. She would never have guessed he was such a snuggler, but she liked it.

"You had better! Oh….I love you too, Furry Man." Ziva smiled into his neck, feeling herself falling asleep.

"You have GOT to come up with a new nickname for me, Ninja, or I'm cutting you off." Tony was drifting off as well, part of him already planning that 'repeat engagement'.

"Doubtful! You lack the necessary self-control to cut me off!" Ziva yawned again, and was out like a light. Just like that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer, disclaimer. I don't own these characters, NCIS, or any of their stuff! Wish that I did, because then I could retire….Continued thanks to those who have been kind enough to review my story, particularly M E Wofford. I LOVED the word HAWT! And yes, the "M" rating will also apply to this chapter. You have all been warned…..**

Ziva gradually awoke around nine a.m., registering filtered sunlight and the tickle of Tony's chest hair on her face simultaneously. Opening her eyes, she glanced around without disturbing her position or Tony. She gave a small smile as she realized that she had apparently not budged since falling asleep earlier. She was still draped on Tony, legs tangled with his, one knee dangerously close to his groin, the other off to the left, arms splayed out to either side, wrapped around him as if he were some large furry body pillow. She stifled a burst of laughter. It _was_ rather amusing after all. Here I am, she thought, in bed with this man who has been many things to me over the last few years- partner, friend (no, BEST friend), massive annoyance, rescuer (odd that he has not used that more against me), but never _lover_ until last night. And given my current position, I could end _that_ with a strategic knee. It is amazing that he has not moved me…..And I am glad that he has not! She cuddled into him, careful not to wake him, luxuriating in the feel of him, listening to the slow rhythm of his heartbeat, his steady even breathing. The arm wrapped around her waist tightened and Tony's hand reflexively squeezed her hip in response. Even in sleep, his body was instinctively responsive to her. _He _was responsive to her, and not in the negligent way of the flighty playboy he liked to portray. It felt…_normal_ to wake in bed with him like this, as if they had been together for years. The thought brought both deep peace mingled with confusion and a tinge of fear. Oh God, Ziva thought, this part, this, this, quotidian aspect of a relationship is always where I lose ground. I either become bored, annoyed, afraid of commitment, or worse, discover some betrayal. She tensed involuntarily, and the sleeping man underneath her tightened his arm further, adding his right arm, which had been thrown over his head. Tony muttered something incoherently into Ziva's hair then quieted, the rate of his breathing still relaxed and even.

Ziva quelled the expanding bubble of panic which had started to form at the thought of commitment. I have to relax and adjust to _this_ first, she argued with herself. I must practice being content. Perhaps that is part of my problem. All of my life, the closest relationships that I have had with men have revolved around what _I_ had to do to earn_ their_ love and approval. There has always been a price, subtle or otherwise. Hah! Of course, there is a price with Tony-I have to put up with his incessant movie references and that huge ego of his. Then again, his ego is in reality no larger or annoying than Eli's ….. This time she really did laugh aloud, stunned by her mind's comparison of two such vastly different men. Once started, she couldn't stop. Naturally, she woke up Tony.

He opened his eyes to Ziva's laughter shaking him and the bed. Since she gave no indication that she wanted to move, he just let her laugh and held her. It was a priceless memory as far as he was concerned- his deadly ninja giggling and hooting like a teenager while she lay naked on top of him. It was also incredibly hot.

"And 'Good Morning' to you, too, Zee-vah! What's so funny?"

She shifted so that she could look at his face, kissing him sweetly, smiling into his mouth. When she backed away, her eyes were happier than Tony had seen them in months, nearly a whole year. He lay under her, hands running along her back, looking up at this radiantly happy woman who had been such a mess the night before. It almost seemed as if she were two separate people. It was cliché, but she was practically glowing. He fervently hoped that he wouldn't ruin it.

"Okay, so '_Very _Good Morning'!" His hands wound into her hair and he pulled her down for another kiss. I had almost forgotten how she looks when she's not stressed to the eyeballs about something, he thought. "So what's so funny? Really? Do I have a giant hicky somewhere, or what?" Ziva grinned at him.

"Actually, you have a rather large bite mark on the top of your shoulder. I suppose that I should apologize for putting it there, but I was provoked….."

"Oh, you were _provoked,_ were you? Well I can think of some other _provocation_ that didn't result in bite marks. That's a little like the drunk falling over his own feet, then claiming he was _pushed_…..Seriously though, what were you laughing at?" His expression was solemn, but his eyes twinkled madly.

"Did you just call me a drunk, DiNozzo? No matter. I suppose that I _was _a bit drunk off of you- hormonally challenged, I believe is the term. When did THAT happen?" She smiled winningly at him, fingers doodling on his chest, and rubbed the side of her face just under his neck, trying to enjoy the way he felt, the mood itself, without directly answering him. Ziva knew that the mere mention of Eli, especially after last night's revelations, would more than likely trigger an explosion which she would be honor bound to resent, whether she agreed with it or not. She mentally kicked herself. This is what I get for having such a twisted sense of humor! "Mmmm….you feel wonderful! I would think that you slept better with me than in that horrid chair in your apartment, yes?"

Tony's hands gripped her hair a little more firmly, and he pulled her face up to his, searching her face and eyes. His investigative skills were too finely tuned for him not to have noticed her attempted evasion. It puzzled him, when he was just curious, but _now_ he was determined to get an answer. He wanted _his_ Ziva, not this well trained coquette trying to hide things from him again.

"Zee, I didn't think that I was invading your privacy, but I'll let it go if you want. I was just curious…..Speaking of feeling good…No fair distracting me….." Tony groaned as Ziva's hands found him and she began to stroke him slowly, a wicked smile replacing the earlier flirty version. She laughed throatily.

"I think you may have something more, ah, pressing to attend to at the moment. Morning iron, yes?" Ziva kissed his jaw line, thoroughly enjoying herself. Emotions had been so raw the night before that she had not had nearly the amount of exploratory time that Tony had gotten. She decided to remedy that situation immediately.

"The term is 'morning wood', and may I assume that this is the 'repeat engagement' you mentioned earlier? If so, '_Very, Very Good Morning'_!" Her mouth had replaced her hands, effectively distracting him from his curiosity. Tony let the questions go for the moment. What she was doing felt too good for him to stop her. Ziva was clearly enjoying herself, and he was loving what she was doing. His hands tangled in her hair and he let her have her way.

She greedily worked him, surprising herself with the almost primal need she had for _all_ of Tony. She usually enjoyed the abandon of the men and the sense of power over them that 'going down' on them provided, but this was different. This was eroticism on a whole different level, a huge turn on for her as much as for him. She licked him like an ice cream cone, then hummed softly as she took him wholly into her mouth, smiling around him as she heard him moan and felt him tighten his hands in her hair. He didn't push her head down, just avidly played in her hair, hands occasionally reaching out to stroke her neck and shoulders. I cannot believe that I am _this_ aroused myself, she mused.

"Ziva! I need to touch you….Jeez!...Can't think straight…" Ziva looked up at Tony, who was falling apart, and showed slight mercy. Releasing him from her mouth, she slid up his body maintaining full contact, deliberately pressing her breasts into his chest, giving a sigh of pleasure when he began to nuzzle them, his tongue sliding over her nipples. She felt his hands move to her hips, pulling her up into position as he moved his mouth to the shell of her ear.

"I seem to recall a certain ninja saying that she _preferred_ it on top. Show me sweetheart! Let me see you let go!" He helped her with the angle, then started to come apart as she slid down onto him, moving slowly, purposefully, eyes closed, rapture on her face. Tony surged up into her easily. Still clutching her hips, he mustered his remaining shreds of control to say one more thing.

"Zee…Open your eyes, if you can. I want to see you come." He pulled her down onto him, once, twice, a third last, urgent, time as she complied with his request, holding her eyes with his own. They found release at the same time, Ziva grimacing comically as she struggled to keep her eyes open, Tony groaning loudly as pleasure overtook them. Coherent thought temporarily became unnecessary. Again, Ziva found herself draped on top of Tony, and again, she was too spent and boneless to care. She sighed contentedly.

"Yes. It is indeed a very, very _good_ morning!"

They both burst out laughing, then noticed the time. Ziva's stomach rumbled first, followed by Tony's. Hands still caught in her hair-it was fast becoming an addiction for him—Tony spoke first.

"I volunteer to pay for breakfast if you want to go out. I remember someone I know having a thing for Belgian waffles, and I'm suddenly feeling a deep need for a huge stack of pancakes."

Ziva lifted her head off of Tony's chest, black eyes dancing merrily.

"Are you low on strength, DiNozzo? I wonder why…" She giggled girlishly when he playfully tickled her.

"Not low on strength! Hungry for food! And by the way, your tummy growled first! I know you saw the time, so do we go out or starve?"

"You forget that I can cook."

"No, I just thought you might want some waffles."

"But we would have to get dressed. Would it not be more comfortable to stay here? Unless you really want to go home…."

"When did an invitation to breakfast become a way to ditch you? Look, I told you last night that I wasn't leaving until we worked out this night screaming thing, and I wasn't kidding. Going to breakfast with you isn't me leaving you. It's me being hungry, and you loving waffles. " Tony frowned at Ziva, thinking, here comes the second storm.

"Why must you think that I am so dependent upon you, or that I need to work out anything?"

"Why must _you_ insist on pushing down all this crap that's giving you nightmares? Do you really think that some fabulous sex is going to divert me for very long? Funny, I thought that what we were doing was a little more than that. Last time I checked, you had finally gotten it through your thick skull that I LOVE YOU, dammit! Can't I offer to buy the woman I love some damn waffles without her taking it as a bid to bolt? And, no, I'm not letting the nightmare thing go, either!"

"You are exceedingly annoying in the morning, did you know that?"

"So I've been told. I'm also an asshole when I'm HUNGRY, but you already KNEW that. So food out, or food in? At this point I could gnaw a chair leg…." Tony stretched as he swung out of bed, grabbing his boxers and jeans from the floor as he headed to the bathroom, heedless of his nudity and the superb view of his backside he gave Ziva. "Are your towels still in the linen closet, or have you moved them? The only ones in the bathroom are yours, and I need a shave at the very least. Oh! And unless you want me using your razor, I hope you have an extra." Still naked, he stepped out of her bathroom and into the hallway, intent on foraging through her linen closet for the razor and towels. Ziva didn't know whether to be offended or pleased with his comfortable attitude. She decided to be pleased, since, despite her earlier sharp remarks, she had a steadily growing warm glow in her heart. He really means to stay put and settle this, she thought, and after all, I cannot change that arrogance. He is just so very _basic _and _male_.

Tony wandered back into the bedroom, towels and razor in hand, pausing on Ziva's side of the bed. Leaning in, he kissed her firmly on the mouth, smiled at her, and repeated his question.

"So….waffles and pancakes out, or 'Ziva Made Omelettes' in?"

"Waffles. With lots of butter, syrup, and whipped cream! You may have a razor, but do NOT use my deodorant. Or my toothbrush. There is an extra in my medicine cabinet. Your sweatshirt is over there." She pointed to the floor on the opposite side of the bed.

"Waffles it is then! I know where it is. I just wasn't ready to put it on yet. Figured I'd wait until you decided what you wanted to do for breakfast. " Once again, his hand came out almost involuntarily to stroke her hair. I could get used to this, he thought. "Don't worry, I won't get hair on your precious deodorant. You have some weird quirks, you know that? Anyway, I found a new one in your linen closet. I had no idea you were such a pack rat. What are you doing? Stockpiling in case of nuclear attack?" He teased her, enjoying the way her hair wound around his fingers.

"Lucky for you, or you would stink all morning!"

"I didn't hear you complaining earlier. Of course, I also didn't demand a back massage, either."

"Tony, shut up and go shave! You are not the only one hungry. Waffles and pancakes, remember?" Ziva gave him a playful shove toward the bathroom. "And rinse out my sink when you are finished! I do not wish to find 'Tony Stubble' all over my fixtures."

"Is that any way to treat the man who's buying you breakfast? I've been shaving since I was fourteen. I think I know how to leave a sink! Next thing you'll be telling me to leave the seat down…Jeez!" Tony good-naturedly grumbled his way into the bathroom. "I love you Ninja!" he called overdramatically upon arrival.

Ziva smirked and laughed, thinking to herself, this weekend is going to be exceptionally _odd_. "I love you too, Tony! Far more than my luggage!" She grinned as he pretended to be hurt.

"Oh, and Ziva?"

"Yes Tony?"

"I still want to know what made you laugh so hard earlier…."


	7. Chapter 7

**CH 7**

**A/N **_With the Inspiration Gremlins (henceforth referred to as IGs) in temporary abeyance, I offer an updated, REAL Chapter 7. Thank you all for your patience and kind words as I make my way through this story. I also wish to thank all those who sent such interesting and entertaining "cure" suggestions. Believe me, if I could have caught an IG, it would have ended up in a microwave months ago! This chapter is dedicated to all those who wish to bleach the memory of "Saturday Night Fever" DiNozzo drag from their scarred psyches…..back to the Tony who may weigh a little more this year, but in no way resembles "Fat Elvis" or anyone else! Yikes! I had to watch the SWAK shower scene like a hundred times…But I digress. Once again, thank you for your support and patience!_

**Disclaimer:** _Don't own 'em. Wish I did, cause that leisure suit would never have appeared!_

While Tony attended to his morning rituals, Ziva slid out of bed and into a pair of jeans and a blue tank top, tidying as she went. She grabbed a pillow from the floor, victim of the night's physicality, chuckling as she put it back on the newly made bed. All things considered, there was minimal damage to the room, nothing five minutes of attention hadn't contained. She had begun to feel rather satisfied with things when she noticed the two cell phones side by side on her bedside table and remembered Abby. Expostulating in guilty annoyance, she snatched up hers and checked for messages, trying to recall when either she or Tony had silenced their phones. Maybe we did it without thinking, she thought. I can only imagine what Abby must be thinking.

Sure enough, three messages marked "Abby" blinked reproachfully from her phone screen, all time stamped after her departure from Ziva's house. Ziva dialed her voicemail, tapped in her passcode, and braced for an "Abby Scold". She was not disappointed.

Message 1 : "Hey Ziva! Just wanted to let you know that I got home okay. No crazies molested me. You don't have to call back or anything, but I _did_ think that you'd answer the phone, given how pushy you got about the late hour and all. Hope this isn't a bad sign. Tony didn't answer his phone either. I'll call back and check on you later. Bye!"

Message 2: " It's me! Nothing huge, just had a fit of the worries. I can't shake off that look you had on your face before I left. I know Tony's there with you, but I'm obsessing. Ziva, what's going on? Call me! Bye!"

Message 3: "Okaaaayyyy…It's eight-thirty and I'm still worrying. Neither of you have answered your phones. Did you turn them off or what? Not that I would blame you, 'cause I know you need some sleep, but at least one of you could have checked in with me. Unless you had to go to the hospital and Tony turned his cell off there. OH GOD! You didn't have to go to the hospital did you? That would be horrible! No! Tony would have called me…Okay! I'm just going to assume that you guys are sleeping and will call me when you can. I don't mean that you're sleeping _with_ Tony, just that you're both sleeping. Not in the same bed. Just probably in the same house together. Not _together_, just at the same time. Gotta go! Love ya! Bye!"

Ziva laughed guiltily as the last message ended. Tony and I are in some truly deep caca with her. How could we have been so thoughtless? Hah! Truthfully, it did not take much….She dialed Abby's number, preparing to perform some serious groveling. Abby caught her phone after one ring.

"Ziva? Are you okay? I don't mean to push, but I was _really _worried! I got home alright. Have you gotten any sleep? Is Tony still with you?"

"Abby…"

"Do you need anything? Geez….I've been really worried! You're not in the hospital are you?"

"No Abby. I was just returning…"

"I wouldn't think that they'd let you have a phone. Especially in the psych ward. Not that you've gone loony or anything…"

"ABBY! I am FINE! I am NOT in the hospital. I am at _home_. Yes, Tony is still here, and yes I got some sleep." Ziva blushed as she told Abby the partial truth, thinking , some sleep—HAH! More like very little but very _satisfying_ sleep! She prayed that Abby wouldn't push, began formulating plausible half truths if she did.

"Are you okay? I mean, at least better? I kind of freaked out when neither of you guys picked up. You know, that's kinda not good. What if Gibbs had called? I know you weren't on call or anything, but emergencies happen!"

" Abby, I have a land line, but you are right. Both Tony and I were thoughtless. _We_ were the ones who insisted that _you _call _us._ It seems I have caused you further worry. I am sorry."

"Who's that?" Tony wandered out of the bathroom, towel around his hips, rubbing damp hair which closely resembled a porcupine toupé. "Abby", mouthed Ziva, trying to maintain attention to Abby's rapid fire dissertation on the imprudence of Ziva _ever _turning off her cell phone. Tony's appearance half-naked and damp in the bedroom only distracted her. The amusement factor of the situation was rapidly being replaced by mortification. Ziva _knew_ that Abby couldn't see her or Tony, but she still felt uncomfortably like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar. The feeling increased when Tony grinned broadly at her, kissed the top of her head, and headed back to the bathroom, dropping the towel as he went. Realizing that his whole routine was meant as a tease, Ziva burst out laughing-right into Abby's ear.

"Ziva I know that sometimes I go on a rant, but you don't have to _laugh_ at me! I mean, _you guys_ were the ones that wanted me to call!"

"Abby, I am sorry! I was not laughing at you. I got distracted. I promise that I will pay more attention to my cell phone. You are right. Gibbs would kill us."

"Was that Tony I heard?"

Ziva swallowed. "Yes."

"Well let me talk to him. It's bad enough that you didn't answer, but Tony totally knows better."

"I cannot."

"Cannot what? Let me talk to Tony."

"I cannot give him the phone Abby."

"Why?"

"Because he is in the bathroom."

"No I'm not." Still grinning, Tony grabbed Ziva's phone from her hands, dancing out of reach as she swung around in shock at his stealth. "Hey Abs! What's up?" At least now he had his pants on. It was Ziva's turn to grin as Abby vented full wrath on Tony, watching his smugly chipper attitude deflate in remarkably short order as he attempted to placate the semi-adopted genius baby sister he never had.

Laughing, Ziva waited for just the right moment in Tony's increasingly weak explanation attempts and gripped him firmly on the backside. To his credit, he jumped but managed to not change the tone of his voice. He turned to grab Ziva's hand only to see her disappear behind the bathroom door, leaving him alone with the steadily unwinding Abby. Now it was his turn to feel a sudden shock of , if not guilt, then strangeness at withholding. It quickly passed in the euphoria of having such a delicious secret. He could keep things quiet a while longer. Besides, Abby would find out eventually. No need to set her off just yet.


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, after a long, dry winter I have finally gotten a Chapter 8. Many thanks to those who have held out in hope while I have wrestled with work, new construction in the house, and inspiration gremlins. Here's to an inspired summer in which to finish this epistle!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Can't afford'em. Wish I could.**

Breakfast was surprisingly uneventful, but perhaps that was the oddest thing of all, particularly for Ziva.

They had each gone about their morning rituals, dressed, locked the house, and departed for the restaurant as if waking up together in Ziva's home was the norm rather that some sort of dimple in the  
Time/Space Continuum. So normal, in fact, that neither Ziva nor Tony paused to consider the pure bizarreness of it until much later in the day.

Tony insisted on driving, making one of his habitual "This isn't Iraq or Israel and I prefer to live." remarks in reference to Ziva's driving skills as he held open the passenger side door for her, once again finding an excuse to touch her hair. He cranked up his stereo in his usual fashion, clearly enjoying the sunny weather as well as his music.

The restaurant they went to was a favorite, mostly patronized by locals, heavy on the side of DC professionals who normally considered even 6AM to be a late start to the day during an average work week. Tony, McGee, and Ziva had fallen into the habit of meeting for an actual "sit down" breakfast roughly once a month, someone on the team picking up some sort of take away at least once a week. Gibbs had very occasionally met them, invariably commenting on DiNozzo's uncanny punctuality when it came to FOOD, even if said food was served at an hour far earlier than report time at the Navy Yard. Generally though, it was only the three of them ordering breakfast and quietly talking about nothing in general and everything in particular. Even their menu selections remained constant. McGee obsessed over some sort of omelet; Tony ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, and a monumental stack of pancakes; Ziva chose fresh fruit and a Belgian waffle. Consequently, all elements to this particular morning were deeply familiar despite the relative lateness of the hour and Tim's absence. They were even met by the same waitress who usually served them. She smiled broadly in greeting as they entered the dining room.

"Well good morning you two! Long time, no see! Where's the third member of the Breakfast Club? Running a bit late aren't you? Shall I put in the usual orders?" Winking at Tony, she pulled out her order pad, pencil poised. It was purely for show, as she had an incredible memory.

Tony grinned at the grandmotherly older woman, impressed as usual by her energy as well as her willingness to wait tables at her age when she could easily afford not to. No one but the regulars knew that she was one of the owners. Casual patrons just assumed that she was a part of the décor which gave the place such a homey feel, an employee past her prime but too esteemed to force into retirement.

"Tim's not meeting us, Mrs. Johnson, but I'm going to ditch the eggs and bacon for a double order of your pancakes. Ziva?"

"I'll take two waffles and whatever your fresh fruit is today. And lots of butter and syrup, please!" Ziva smiled fondly at the server.

"How many times must I tell you all to call me Maggie? Bless your hearts, I appreciate the respect, but it makes me feel positively ancient. Ninety, at least! Especially from you," she poked Tony jokingly with the eraser end of her pencil. "I know for a fact, young man, that you're no better than you should be. Ziva, I don't know how you put up with this flirt all day! Usual beverages? Coffee for Tony, hot tea for you?"

"I sometimes wonder myself Mrs. Johnson,ah, Maggie! But he is not all flirt. He is extremely proficient at annoying his co-workers with movie references as well. I believe the term is multi-tasking, is it not? Yes, I think that the usual drinks will work." Ziva's friendly smile suddenly turned brilliant as Tony's foot slid up her leg under the table. The change did not go unnoticed by Maggie.

"I'll go on and give these to the kitchen and leave you two alone." She fixed both with a knowing look. "Tony, just you remember that this is a public space and that Ziva's a lady." With that, she headed for the back of the restaurant, leaving the partners chuckling sheepishly.

Affecting an innocent air, Tony withdrew his foot, immensely content to just look at Ziva. She was fairly glowing in the light from a nearby window, and it had been eons since he had seen her this relaxed and genuinely happy in public. She emanated such a constant unshakeable self-containment that he had almost forgotten that she could unwind in truth as well as in deference to the prevailing mood.

"So…I wonder why she gave us that look. It's not like I goosed you or anything." He waggled his eyebrows at Ziva, his lips twitching in an obvious challenge which she suddenly seemed too preoccupied to notice.

"Why on Earth would you throw a goose at me in a restaurant, Tony? Aside from the fact that I would make you instantly regret it in a most painful fashion, it would be most unsanitary, not to mention inconsiderate of the other customers." Ziva smiled placidly at Tony, her sparkling eyes in direct contrast to her almost bored delivery.

"Goosed, my darling probette, is an American idiom with which I thought you would already be familiar. It means to pinch or grope, usually the ass of a member of the opposite sex, although McBi-Curious might dispute that. What I was saying was that I don't understand why Maggie would say that to me when I have been the picture of the perfect gentleman and partner."

"Perhaps it had something to do with the foot you were trying to wedge between my knees."

"That was under the table, and therefore technically in private, in direct contrast to my **publically** impeccable behavior."

"What exactly makes you think that 'under the table' is a private space? We are still in the restaurant."

"Because it's **under the table** and as such screened from the view of prying eyes by the tablecloth and precedent. " Tony smirked amiably at Ziva, managing to give the impression that he was slightly outdone with his unaccountably dim breakfast companion.

"Precedent?"

"Yes, precedent. It's bad form to peer under tables, Zee-vah. Centuries of medieval banquets have established this rule. Where's your sense of history?"

"Aaahh! I suppose it should not surprise me that a former frat boy would cite a medieval banquet as a source for good manners. Considering what I have read about university fraternities, I can see how you would feel comfortable using such an event as a rubric for polite behavior. Are you planning to spit on the floor during breakfast as well?" Ziva struggled to maintain her façade of bored indifference. She reached across the table to delicately pick up the sugar, carefully measuring a spoonful and stirring it into her recently arrived tea. Making eye contact with Tony, she slowly and deliberately licked her spoon before daintily placing it on the saucer. She pursed her lips in mock disapproval. Tony's jeans suddenly felt two sizes too small in the inseam.

"Well pardon me Emily Post! When did you become the arbiter of all things appropriate? Oh I know! It must've been all those excruciatingly proper tea parties you planned for your superior officers and the PLO when you were in the IDF. It all makes perfect sense to me now!" Now in full blown teasing mode, Tony grinned across the table, confident that his joking tone had taken any sting out of his reference to Ziva's former life. This type of word play was far too comfortable and familiar to threaten her. It also had the added benefit of distracting him from the burgeoning party in his pants.

Pretending to accept his remarks as a compliment, Ziva purred a sultry, "Thank you for recognizing my expertise! I would like to point out one more small flaw in your definition of privacy." It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to stay in character. She kept fixating on his eyelashes, the shape of his mouth (How have I **never** noticed that before? she wondered), and the way just the right amount of chest hair showed above his casually unbuttoned neckline. She felt giddy.

"And what would that small flaw be, my Ninja?" Tony leaned into and over the table, invading her personal space, nearly upsetting the sugar container and a vase holding a few carnations and some greenery. His eyes had darkened to that impossible shade of emerald again, but they still danced.

"There is no tablecloth." Ziva deadpanned, arching an eyebrow, then bursting into laughter.

They were both still laughing and gasping for air when Maggie brought their food.


End file.
